The Vampire & Her Witch

No one in the Great Hall knew what to say or think about what they’d just seen and heard. The High Priest had knelt to the Marchioness and pledged to help her make up for a century of wrongs committed by the Church and the Lothian family, even if it meant defying the Holy City to do so.

There was no precedent for this, no parallel that could be compared to. Even those like Liam Dunn and Tulori Leufroy who had been educated in the academies of Keating, Trevarthan or the Royal Capital of Gaalen, with all their years of study and worldly experience, couldn’t recall a moment like this one.

The shock grew greater still for people like Adala Leufroy, who was already piecing this act of defiance together with Lady Ashlynn’s decision to execute the Inquisition’s abbot and to imprison so many of his Inquisitors afterward.

”She’s like a force of nature,” Adala whispered, unable to hold back the words as she found herself drawn into the swirling currents that surrounded the woman who had fought her way back from the brink of death to claim justice for herself. And it didn’t appear like Ashlynn was done yet.

”Thank you, High Priest Aubin,” Ashlynn said as she helped the aging priest to his feet. For a moment, Adala was certain that she’d seen a flash of emerald light when Lady Ashlynn’s hands touched the priests, but it was gone in a blink, leaving her wondering if she’d really seen it, or if it had been a trick of the light catching on the small emerald jewels sewn into Lady Ashlynn’s dress.

”Sir Hunold,” Ashlynn said, standing side by side with the High Priest as she addressed the man who had asked for justice. ”We cannot give you justice in an instant, but we can work toward it every day. For now, I have two decrees for you and every family who lost loved ones last night. Please tell me if these decrees will help your father’s spirit rest,” she said.

”First, from my husband’s own fortune, I will see a death benefit be paid to your family and every other family who suffered injustice last night,” Ashlynn promised solemnly. ”Gold can’t heal an aching heart, but it can stop cupboards from going bare, homes from falling to disrepair and many other things while you take the time you need to grieve and heal.”

Several people murmured in surprise at that announcement while others tried to determine what their Marchioness meant when she said ’every other family who suffered injustice.’ There were loyal Lothian soldiers who had died to Ashlynn’s own forces last night... Would those families be compensated, even though they’d fought against her?

Some felt they should. After all, now that she’d taken the throne, she’d taken over the household they served. As their enemy, Lady Ashlynn owed them nothing, but as the new lord of Lothian, she had a responsibility to the people who had served the march.

Others were less certain. Serle Otker snorted under his breath at the cleverness of her words. ’Suffered injustice’ sounded noble, but he was convinced that he’d seen through her ploy. She’d be able to pick and choose among those who’d been harmed to decide whether the killing had been ’just’ or not, and if she deemed it so, she’d owe nothing.

In Serle’s mind, it was likely that she would pay out generous benefits to the families of knights, but if any of her own men had been wounded or slain in the fighting last night, the people who injured her soldiers were unlikely to see as much as a few snips of tin. It’s what he would do, after all, and he saw no reason to believe that Ashlynn would be any different.

”Second,” Ashlynn said, pretending to be oblivious to the whispers already spreading through the hall. ”In honor of Sir Hunold’s father, Sir Aron Sayer, I will send protectors to your villages and towns to help take up the burdens of the knights who were lost last night.”

”As you said, Sir Hunold,” Ashlynn continued. ”Your father would not have abandoned his duty if there was danger at the gates... Since he cannot, I will place someone there in his stead, for as long as you find yourselves in need,” she said.

”Nothing can ever replace the people we’ve lost, and few harms can truly be undone,” Ashlynn said. ”But is this enough of a beginning for your father to rest?”

Inwardly, Sir Hunold fumed. Even in the midst of confessing to horrible crimes, the man he’d tried to tear down came away smelling like roses and resembling some kind of sacred martyr as he confessed to the Church’s misdeeds.

This had been his one chance to demand retribution for Aubin’s failure to protect them... and not only had he failed, he’d given the old man an opportunity to draw even closer to Lady Ashlynn than he’d been moments ago.

Deep down, Hunold knew that this was fair and just. He understood that there was nothing the old priest could have done and that the real blame lay with men who were already dead. He knew, but that didn’t stop him from hating the old priest every bit as much as he hated himself for abandoning his father to the darkness so he could shield his wife and child.

This morning, Hunold had promised himself that he would do something, anything, to claim a measure of retribution with his own hands, or at least, his own words. He would prove to his father that he was man enough to claim some form of revenge against anyone still standing who bore even a trace of guilt for what had happened...

And Lady Ashlynn had denied him that.

Worse, the things she’d offered were both generous and just. She hadn’t insulted him with gold, but she was right that it would help. No matter what else had happened, there was a war coming when the Holy Warriors arrived from across the sea to fight against the demons, and when that day arrived, Hunold would ride to war, leaving his wife and children home without anyone to care for them.

Gold enough to hire caretakers to help his wife watch the little ones and protectors to keep her safe...

”I think,” Hunold said as he swallowed back the bitterness in his mouth. ”I think my father would be pleased to know that someone had taken up his burdens after he fell,” Hunold said, all but choking on the words as he said them. ”Thank you, your Grace, for your generosity and your justice.”

It wasn’t what he wanted to say, but as he looked at his liege lord, Baron Telent Rundel, and saw the sharpness in his lord’s gaze, he realized he had no choice. Make peace. Don’t make waves. That had been a mantra in Rundel for years at this point, and it was one that had allowed the once struggling barony to slowly catch up to the likes of Serge Otker and Loghlan Dunn.

It didn’t feel knightly, and Hunold didn’t like it... But much like Lady Ashlynn left him with few options, his lord left him with even fewer. Perhaps that would change one day, and he would have an opportunity to do with his own hands what he hadn’t been able to force Lady Ashlynn to do today in the name of justice...

But that day was not today, and Hunold wasn’t so lost to grief and fury that he couldn’t recognize that. Another day would dawn. Until then, he would have to be patient...